Los Angeles
by artemis-writer
Summary: Season 3: Angel makes it out of Hell, with a little help.
1. Default Chapter

Fire, pain, terror. For Angel's soul it was all beginning to blend together. What he had tried to convince himself was a nightmare, was real. Death would have been a blessing, a surcease of his agony. That was the problem, though. He had already died. More precisely, been killed. It didn't matter now. He knew only pain. Hell. Such a small word for a place of indescribable misery. There was no escape.  
  
Angelus studied the wretched mass before him. To think he had had to share a body with this pitiful excuse for a being for fifty years. "Payback sure is a bitch, huh Peaches?"  
  
Angel had learned that this sort of question was rhetorical. A response would only draw the attention of his own personal demon. The irony of the situation did not escape him. No, it was just another log on the fire.  
  
The lash struck hard on Angel's already shredded back. He did not even have the strength to cry out properly, a raspy choke fought its way out.  
  
"You always were a whiny bastard, weren't you? Never knew what was good for the body we had. Never knew what that little blonde tart really needed, did you? I was never grateful for that damned curse until you gave her a tasty screwing. Never knew you had it in you, old boy."  
  
The verbal torment was just a part of the whole lovely package Angel got around here. Beaten physically, then verbally. Then left to stew for what felt like decades. That was the worst. Sensory deprivation. When his demon was not there he could not see, smell, taste, feel. Nothing.  
  
With a cackle, Angelus left him to this worst of all sufferings. Memories were his only companions now.  
  
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Rational thought had fled. All he knew was animal instinct. Cowering in a corner of the crag he faced his enemy. He did not know the name of the thing anymore. He did not know his own name. It was speaking, but the words no longer meant anything. Sounds, that's all it was. But when the thing was here he could see and hear and taste and feel the rock beneath his feet. Then came the pain. He snarled.  
  
The thing spat at him and left. Darkness. Nothingness.  
  
A light flared to life directly in front of him. Senses returned. He instinctively shrank against the wall. But this, standing before him, was a different thing. As his eyes adjusted he saw that what had seemed bright was actually quite dim.  
  
The thing reached out to touch him; he snarled and lashed out with jagged nails. The thing caught his wrist and the pain there was eradicated. His arm did not feel hot anymore. He did not remember what this feeling was called, he had not felt it in eons, it seemed. Not hot.  
  
********************************  
  
Hope crept towards the crag, light but a bare glimmer in the darkness. It was these assignments she both loved and hated. Hated spending any time in Hell but loved freeing those who would have another chance. Not many, just those with special circumstances, those that were needed.  
  
He was here, she was finally sure of it. She penetrated the wall and let the light grow just a little; she had to be sure. But yes, here was Angel. She reached out a hand to him and caught his wrist when he tried to claw her. This was not the time to heal him fully. It would have to wait until they made it to the haven.  
  
Soon the demon would be back, and if he got one whiff of her presence, not be alone. She was not here for a battle, just the retrieval of this one soul.  
  
With strength unmatched to her size, she lifted him into her arms. He moaned.  
  
Oh, no! There were sounds of multiple demons approaching. The healing had not been intentional, but it was too late; they had felt her here. She glanced at her charge. The demons entered the chamber and she gave them a flash of her true brilliance. Light flashed in the tiny space like a bomb exploding. The demons were momentarily blinded and scattered. Hope took her chance and darted out of the chamber.  
  
She could not simply vanish, as was her wont, Angel could not handle it in his present condition. There was no point in hiding anymore; they needed speed not stealth.  
  
****************************  
  
The thing was holding him in its arms. He was feeling not hot at all points where his body contacted hers. Hers.she.I know this! A female, not like me. His head was against her shoulder and he could see behind them. The bad things were coming for them! Then his vision was half-obscured by a white something. The white something was not hard, it was not dark and it did not hurt his nose with its smell, everything that this place was not. It was.. He did not know.  
  
The bad things were right behind her! One reached out claws to the white something. It never took hold. The white somethings were moving and he was lifted with her.  
  
There was a slight jerk in their ascent. He looked over her shoulder and down. One of the bad things had its claws embedded deep in her leg. The thing saw him and snarled, the muscles cording in its neck as it redoubled its efforts to pull them down. Blood trickled from where the claws held, down the bad thing's arm.  
  
He buried his head in the shoulder, shaking. They looped and dived. The bad thing.Demon. It's a demon. Gave a terrible shriek. He looked down again. Her leg was in shreds but the demon was gone.  
  
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Hope could feel the liquid fire that was pain racing along her nerves. She doubted if there was any muscle left on her calf. But she had shaken the monster that had gotten a grip. She shot upwards, trading the zigzagging for pure speed. She knew it would not be enough. There was one demon that would still have claim to this soul as long as he walked the earth. They were tied.  
  
If he had not died to shut the gateway into Hell, he would have been free. Wishing does not make it so. She did wish it, though. This soul did not deserve Hell. It was bought and paid for.  
  
There was one catching up to them again. It was at her heels, then level with them. This was the one that would not be lost. It knew that she could not hinder it and so lashed out with the whip it carried. The tongues caught her right wing and that side of her head. Vision in her right eye clouded and she could feel the blood pouring down her face. It was a malicious creature, but wanted out of Hell almost as much as the soul in her arms.  
  
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Soft. That is what this feeling is. The white something is soft and so is she. It was so little and yet so much.  
  
He barely had time to register something warm and wet flowing over his leg before there came a searing pain in his chest. His very blood ached. This pain was familiar. He felt the presence of the demon, his demon. He automatically asserted control, it was like breathing. His demon wanted out of this here just as much as he did. But the demon also cursed the rescuer.  
  
There was a great rushing around them and they burst out of the place. He was now not having the pleasant sensation of not hot, but.cold. He was cold, so much so that it hurt.  
  
********************************  
  
They were out of danger. Hope slowed her breakneck pace. In pain and weary with more than just her own efforts, she changed course. If the return of his demon caused Angel pain, she was in agony for it. Not wholly restored and yet burdened further with the return of his very own tormentor.  
  
Even at her decreased speed the scenery below rushed past. She angled herself for a shallow descent. Her right wing could not take anything sharper. Hope guessed it was scored down to the bone, she hoped the bone would hold until they were nearer, but she doubted it. Her strength was also waning, a side effect of the extended search in Hell.  
  
Ah! There it is! Her sharp eyes picked out the beacon that was visible to only her kind. Relief washed over her. A haven is for healing; we both need it.  
  
They were expected. She could see a healer making his way up to meet her. No, it was not a healer. She felt a rush of emotion. It was Liam, one of her peers and her mentor.  
  
When he leveled with them he roared for healers. One of them took her charge. Hope felt the last of her strength leave her. Liam caught her as her right wing crumpled, the bone snapping.  
  
*********************************  
  
Softness surrounded him. His wounds were completely healed. He felt light- headed at the sensation of being whole and strong. Yes, he moved his arms and legs; perhaps he could stand of his own volition. He sensed that he was not as strong and capable as he once had been. Maybe he could be again. If he had been rescued from that place, anything was possible.  
  
**********************************  
  
"You were supposed to be on a mission of stealth," said Liam, looking over at Hope.  
  
"I know it, but the power usage was unavoidable," she replied.  
  
He smiled at her. "I know, lass. Anyone weaker would not have made it out at all."  
  
"Since I'm leaving in an hour to drop him off, tell me how your territory fares."  
  
"I'd trade you anytime. Having the Watchers' Council, lately, has made the two inhabited Hellmouthes look like a walk in the park."  
  
Hope grinned at him. "That bad, huh?"  
  
"Well, you heard how their opinion of Rupert Giles is sliding, didn't you?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. You know, Li, the Slayer doesn't really need them anymore. She's much stronger than any of the others, I'm happy to report. We might have an actual chance at updating the system with her."  
  
Liam snorted. "More of an update than having two Slayers? Not that I disagree with you, mind. We all want that. The present system just didn't take into account a population of this size."  
  
"Mmm. One Slayer and the Seven of us are just not enough to keep six billion people unaware of the existence of demons."  
  
************************************  
  
He was comfortable, having just woken. He opened his eyes. She was with him. Sitting near his pallet and looking at him. He had not noticed her eyes earlier. But here in this safe place alive with color, he noticed them. A rich violet color. He liked them. He was fairly sure, even before Hell, that he had never seen eyes this color. Demon eyes were yellow and cat-like, out of place in a human face. Her eyes, though, were more at home on her face than he could remember any eyes being.  
  
"I know that you can't speak yet. But I know you understand me. It's time for me to take you back, back to Sunnydale," she said.  
  
Sunnydale, yes, he knew that place. On a Hellmouth. He shook his head. He wanted to stay in this place.  
  
"You can't stay here, Angel. This is a haven, not a home. We have to go." She moved towards him and gathered him in her arms once again.  
  
**********************************  
  
They hovered over the Crawford Street mansion. Hope sighed. The time was not perfect yet. She looked down through the ceiling of the building. A young woman stood, staring at something in her hand. Her pain was palpable to Hope. This blonde was one of her most special charges, a Slayer.  
  
A silver ring was placed on the marble floor of the mansion. The Slayer turned slowly and walked out without looking back. Hope dropped down, through the ceiling, but still a dozen feet above the floor. Her light illuminated the space from above.  
  
It was time. Hope vanished.  
  
**************************************  
  
Angel was in her arms once more. He did not look around, but again buried his head in her shoulder. The soft, clean whiteness comforted him.  
  
He put an arm around her neck. They were descending. He felt the brush of.something; it was like passing through a sheet of water.  
  
He fell, contacting the marble with an organic thwapping sound. He looked up. She was gone. 


	2. Seleccíon

AN: The idea of complete sensory deprivation as torture comes from Anne McCaffrey's The Ship Who Sang.  
  
The idea of Angelus (the demon) torturing Angel (the soul) comes from a fan fiction. I can't remember the title or author. Willow tries to rescue Angel's soul from Hell, but the demon (Angelus) somehow gets the upper hand.  
  
*************************************  
  
Gone.  
  
Angel wanted her to stay. He felt as though a fog was closing about his brain. When she had been with him everything had been easy, had made sense. But this hard floor, this darkness of night, they were closing in around him.  
  
Words were failing him and he did not know what to do now. He was in no shape to even walk.  
  
He growled, felt the animal inside of him rising to the surface. It was safe, reassuring. After all, this is how he had survived before she had found him.  
  
The feral animal would protect his despairing psyche.  
  
**************************************  
  
Hope sensed the change in Angel even though she was halfway around the world. Yes, his soul would again have to be coaxed out of the beast protecting it. She sighed, wishing that she could have stayed with him. Ah, but wishing does not make it so. Besides, there's plenty to be done here.  
  
She was striding down a corridor. The rich mahogany wainscoting, rich red color of the walls, and brass sconces practically screamed old money.  
  
The heels of her black pumps clicked on the wood floor. She switched her black leather briefcase to the other hand. Glowing white raiment had been traded for an excellently tailored gray tweed suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe chignon at the back of her head.  
  
Addressing the Watchers' Council required a certain level of formality, no matter who you were. Translation: tweed.  
  
Hope stopped in front of a door. The door was unremarkable; there was no plate to announce its importance. She took a deep breath, gathering all her considerable patience to her, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the Council chamber.  
  
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Liam looked up. A casual observer would think his pose indolent, leaning against the wall in one corner of the room. However, he was probably more alert than anyone else in the room. No, make that definitely.  
  
He heard Hope take her deep breath before entering the room. Watched as the assembled Watchers turned their eyes to the opening door.  
  
***************************************  
  
They had all turned to look at her as she entered. Hope sighed a sigh that was audible to only one other person in the room. She glanced his way and saw a hint of a smile creep onto his face. At least someone who spent a considerable amount of time around the Council could keep his sense of humor. Yes, Liam and his indomitable good nature.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "It has come to my attention that the next Slayer has been called. She has found her way to Sunnydale, California and will need a Watcher to guide her."  
  
Murmurs of assent greeted her statement. The Council had already received the call from Rupert Giles, plans were in motion. Candidates had been selected, it was up to the one who had the Slayers in her care to make the final decision.  
  
"Please bring the candidates in." Hope phrased it politely, but all the assembled knew it for what it was: a thinly veiled order.  
  
A side door was opened and the three candidates filed in. Hope's attention immediately focused on the nervous young man on the right. Then, she swept her gaze across the other two.  
  
"Wesley Windham-Price." 


End file.
